


Aller

by Elpie (Horribibble)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aerial Act, Alternate Universe - Circus, Circus, Cirque du Soleil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horribibble/pseuds/Elpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no feeling quite like flying: <br/>	The catch and release of a strong, open palm—of being swung high, into a spinning arch.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles and Derek have been partners for long enough to master the art of catch and release. But mistakes can always be made. </p><p>         Sometimes you need nets, and sometimes you don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aller

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was born from my endless obsession with both Cirque du Soleil and circus!AUs. I needed more acrobat Stiles. I need ALL of the acrobat Stiles. This would be longer if not for my pitiful lack of knowledge, and may well expand into a drabble series.

There is no feeling quite like flying:

  
The catch and release of a strong, open palm—of being swung high, into a spinning arch. The open cavern of his chest and belly are gloriously empty, echoing the sensation of whistling heights.

  
For a moment, he is above.

  
He is beyond gravity.

  
Lights flare and the force of his ascent creates something distantly remnant of a breeze before he falls.

  
His stomach plummets as he misses the outstretched hand—too far away, the shocked expression. There is nothing to hold on to, and so he falls.

  
           His hands are empty.

  
The music stops, and so does he.

  
          “Dead!” The man’s voice is harsh and loud, as always. “Dead! Stilinski’s dead, and do you know _why_ he’s dead?!”

  
The answer comes from overhead, rumbling with shame. “Because he fell.”

  
“He fell! And why the hell did he do that?!”

  
“Because I didn’t catch him.”

  
“Aw, take it easy, coach. That’s what the net’s for.”

  
Derek peers down at him from above, hands still curling inward, fingers pressing palms as if to communicate how very important it is that he _not drop his partner._

  
Stiles beams up at him, still bouncing a little on the safety net.

  
Finstock continues screaming, demanding that the tech crew reset, because they’ll be taking it from the top.

  
Even this far down, Stiles can see the guilt and concern in Derek’s expression. There it is again, that nasty, guilty habit. He’s blaming himself.

  
Even with a net, Stiles could have been seriously injured.

  
Any number of things could have gone wrong, and it would have started with a simple slip of the fingers, a missed opportunity for touch.

  
The idea of never touching hands, shoulders, lips, _anything_ again is a weight too heavy for Derek to catch or release. Stiles is no better suited to it.

  
Instead, he lets it roll off, curling his shoulders up from the net, a beatific smile irrepressibly shining.

  
But for the occasional rehearsal fumble, Derek is outstandingly good at what he does—keeping Stiles safe and airborne. How many people can claim that their boyfriend gives them _flight_?

  
Derek shakes his head, fighting an answering smile and shouts, “Get up here! We’ve got less than five!”

  
Stiles doesn’t move an inch until he’s certain Derek is watching his mouth, the curve of his lip. He says, “We’ll get it this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [tumblr.](http://anabundanceofstilinskis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
